


This Didn't Go As Planned

by coolasdicks



Series: Too Rough!Verse [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, ankle injury, bets for shits and giggles, idiots jumping off buildings because why not, injuries, no one was drunk, too rough!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolasdicks/pseuds/coolasdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael jumps off the Roosterteeth building because... there is no because, he just wants to win.</p>
<p>Prompts:</p>
<p>Big fan of your writing. I was rereading Too Rough and I came upon the couple of sentences that referenced Michael jumping off of the RT building. Could you possibly write a one-shot or short fic regarding this incident? I love AHOT6 that are Michael-centric!</p>
<p>and</p>
<p>AHOT6 (Michael-centric): The Gents are fed up with the Lads' bets and shenanigans that keep leaving someone (usually Michael) banged up or throwing up. Got this idea from watching AH: BTS and RT: Life videos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Didn't Go As Planned

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the old office, and the second prompt is adjusted just slightly to make things smoother. Also… you said one-shot or short fic, so I went with the former because it didn’t say short… (sorry)

It wasn’t a very interesting bet, but then again Gavin was easily entertained by Michael’s seemingly superhuman pain tolerance.

“God, it’s fucking freezing up here,” Ryan hissed, rubbing the back of his arms frantically to ward off the chill. “You regrettin’ this yet, Michael?”

Michael, with the first few inches of his shoes hanging off the ledge of the building, shrugged. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he said honestly. It reminded him of the tall playgrounds he used to climb on top of when he was in grade school. He would leap off, and more often than not, he would end up with shins covered in bruises and scrapes. And he’d smiled through that.

This didn’t seem much different, and it was definitely worth the five hundred bucks Gavin had put on the table.

Speaking of, Gavin wasn’t looking too confident now. He stared at Michael, who was perched on the ledge, and then he would stare at the ground with an equally frustrated expression.

“What? Were you thinking I’d bitch out once we got up here?” Michael guessed with a smirk. Gavin sent him an unhappy grimace.

“Yes, actually, and now that you haven’t, I’m growing a bit concerned,” he confessed, inching forward but refusing to come within a foot of the ledge.

“Concerned that you’re about to lose five hundred bucks? I would be, too,” Michael laughed.

“I was actually concerned about you bloody penetrating yourself with your femurs,” Gavin said doubtfully.

Michael rolled his eyes and looked at Ryan. “You got the contract, right, Rye-bread?”

Ryan nodded and held up the folded piece of paper. “Signed and proofread by the lovely Jack Pattillo, who could not make it today because we had coupons for Free Birds. Oh, and to add my two cents, I definitely think you’re about to lose five hundred dollars, Gavin.”

“We live together, what does it even matter?” Gavin whined, rubbing the sole of his shoe into the gravely concrete.

“Oh hell no, you’re not fucking reneging,” Michael said in disbelief. “If anyone should be chickening out, it’s me. You fucking signed the contract, Gavino, and I’m about to earn me some moo-lah.”

Gavin stared at him in a typical blank-Gavin stare. It meant he conceded, but fuck if he would ever say that aloud. And to _Michael_ , no less.

“I can’t believe I’m the one condoning this,” Ryan said ruefully, shaking his head with a faint smile.

“But you _are_ condoning it,” Gavin said, and the way he said it made Michael think that perhaps Gavin really was worried about Michael’s safety. His tone was clearly attempting to goad Ryan into either pulling the emergency break or getting someone who would.

Ryan, the good man that he was, couldn’t be so easily swayed. “I am.”

“See? Ryan doesn’t think it’s a bad idea,” Michael pointed out smugly.

“Oh, no. I never said it’s not a bad idea,” Ryan laughed.

“Okay, fine. Ryan doesn’t think I’m going to penetrate myself with my own femurs,” Michael amended.

Ryan’s brow furrowed. “I never said that, either.”

“You’re really not helping here,” Michael told him, but there was no heat to his tone. Glancing at Gavin, he said, “Ready, boi?”

Reaching into his pockets, Gavin took out his phone and walked towards the fire escape that had led them up here.

“Where are you going?” Ryan called the same time Michael said, “Is that a win for me?”

“It’ll be a better angle if I film from ground level!” Gavin shouted back, already making his way down the ladder.

Rolling his eyes, Michael turned back to face the ledge. A few minutes later, Gavin appeared around the corner, looking up and shielding his eyes from the sun. His phone was aimed at Michael.

Okay. He could do this.

Er… _fuck_.

Michael blew out a sharp gust of air, nerves sizzling like a live wire at the prospect of jumping off the building. It didn’t look as scary as it sounded, but the moment he twitched to leap, his muscles locked up in panic.

“C’mon!” Gavin yelled from below, sounding irritated.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one about to break both legs!” Michael yelled sardonically back. He glanced over his shoulder at Ryan, whose facial expression was bordering between excitement and self-doubt.

Ryan was hesitating to call this off. Michael and Gavin could both tell, and the former didn’t want to give the blond time to reconsider. Holding his breath, Ryan watched as Michael did a small butt wiggle to prepare himself, and then the redhead was pushing off from the ledge and jumping, yelling as he would in a Rage Quit.

As soon as Michael was mid-air, Ryan realized he really should have put his foot down.

It wasn’t that far of a fall, but as Ryan leaned over the edge, he felt as if he was watching Michael fall in slow motion. The roof wasn’t quite two stories towards the back of the building, where there was grass, and Ryan knew Michael was physically durable enough to land without hurting himself… much. The bet had been based more on ‘will you do it’ rather than ‘ _can_ you do it’.

And it didn’t occur to Ryan until now that _yeah,_ Michael was definitely going to do it.

His battle scream faded off enough near the end to hear the sound he made when he landed – on his feet with bent knees, arms spread wide for balance – and it was dull and terrible. On the upside, Ryan could hear no bones breaking. Michael’s arms spun in the air in what Ryan guessed was a sad attempt to keep him upright, but within seconds Michael was toppling over on the grass.

Gavin, whose phone was still out and filming, raced over, breathless with nervousness. “Oh – my god, I can’t believe you just did that. How did you do that?”

Ryan couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. “Ask him if he’s okay!” he yelled down.

“He’s fine, he’s laughing,” Gavin waved back. He went quiet, speaking with Michael in tones lower than Ryan could hear, and the blond was forced to take the fire escape back down to be a part of the conversation.

He turned around the corner of the building, and Michael was still sitting in the grass.

What Ray called ‘protective dad mode’ instantly kicked in.

Jogging his way over, Ryan knocked shoulders with Gavin and stared down at Michael. The redhead was just looking blankly back at them. It was creepy as hell. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Michael said slowly. His fingers were kneading the grass. “That was fucking…”

Stepping closer, Ryan kneeled in the grass beside Michael, leaning close in order to draw Michael’s full attention to him. Gavin still had the fucking phone out.

“You look a little stunned,” Ryan joked. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Michael assured, but still made no move to stand. His legs were splayed out in front of him, chest rising and falling rapidly as he came down from the adrenaline rush. “That hurt a lot more than I expected it to.”

Ryan laughed, relieved to hear Michael speaking in more complete sentences. “Knees?” he guessed.

“Ankles,” Michael said dolefully, a cringe flashing across his face when he gingerly pulled up one leg and felt around the skin just above his shoe. His lips were pursed, expression one of concentration.

“Bollocks,” Gavin sighed angrily, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “I’m out five hundies… Hey Ryan, can I borrow some money?”

Ryan sent Gavin an unimpressed look, but smiled as he turned back to Michael, who was grinning. “Well, come on then, let’s go back inside. It’s still cold out here, even if you may not be feeling it.”

“Why would he not be feeling it?”

“Have you ever had an adrenaline rush?” Ryan said. “Warms your entire body in seconds.”

“Um,” Michael coughed, pulling their attention back to him. Ryan narrowed his eyes. Michael was very nervously gripping handfuls of grass and tearing them out, a jittery habit Ryan knew well. “Okay, fuck, I think I sprained my ankle. Can you help me up?” He paused. “And then help me back to the office?”

“Sprained –” Ryan started before cutting himself off. His heart was hammering. “Oh, _fuck_! Geoff is going to kick my ass for this. Not as much as he’s going to kick yours, of course, but I’m the adult here. I should’ve –”

“Oh shut it, Ryan,” Michael groaned. “First of all, we’re _all_ adults. If we weren’t, you’d have three shiny, new felonies under your belt. Second, fucking help me up, I think I’m sitting close to dog shit and my ass is getting cold.”

Grumbling lightly, Ryan very carefully hoisted Michael upright, heart pulling in sympathy when the redhead yelped and clung to him for balance.

“Fuck, _both_ of them hurt,” Michael cursed, wincing. He adjusted so that one foot was planted firmly on the ground while the other was raised slightly. “That one hurts less.”

Weaving an arm under Michael’s to more securely steady him, Ryan took a slow step towards the building. Michael followed by hopping, but when they were about to take their second step, Gavin reluctantly took Michael’s weight from the other side.

Ryan couldn’t help but grin and rib Gavin as they made their way around the building to the front door. “This has to be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen Gavin Free do.”

“As much as I’d like to film the two of you hopping around, it’s bloody cold and I’m going to be held responsible,” Gavin muttered. He was averting his eyes every few seconds from Michael’s strained face, and Ryan could tell he actually felt a little guilty.

“You’re right,” Ryan agreed simply. “For the most part. I have to admit, though… that was a pretty dumb bet.”

“At least I won!” Michael said with a shark-like grin.

“Congrats,” Ryan said flatly. “You get to partially pay your medical bills.”

“It’s a just a sprain,” Michael pointed out, and normally Ryan would agree, but he’s seen twisted ankles end up as more than just twisted ankles. The bones in the foot were easily damaged with impact, and jumping from nearly two stories was definitely not good for them.

“We’ll see what Geoff says,” Ryan decided to say as he pushed open the door. It was an easy way to sum up the argument in a way that left both of them knowing Ryan was right.

Kara got out of her chair and fluttered her hands nervously in front of Michael’s body, as if attempting to carry some of his weight by air bending it, but after many reassurances from the redhead himself, she allowed them to continue into the empty AH office.

Ryan helped settle Michael into his chair, eyeballing the redhead all the while. “We can either wait for them to come back from their lunch or we can call Jack now, and he can drive us to a walk-in clinic.”

Michael’s upper lip curled. Neither of those options sounded appealing. But even the slightest movement of his foot sent ridges of pain washing up Michael’s spine. “Uh – we can call him now,” he said tightly, red-faced and puffing.

Ryan and Gavin shared a concerned glance before the latter took out his phone and called Jack. He was very brisk.

“Jack, stop stuffing your gob. We need a ride.”

“We being who?”

“Me, Michael, and Ryan.”

“Can’t this wai –”

Gavin glanced at Michael, whose eyes were squinty and watery with pain. Turning his back on the redhead, he swallowed his rising guilt and said, “Er, no. Are you going to pick us up from the office or no? Aren’t you just across the street?”

He heard Jack sigh on the other line. “I’m at Free Birds,” he answered. Gavin could hear the crinkling of a burger wrapper in the background. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Five,” Gavin quickly said when Michael hissed in pain.

“Five,” Jack growled back, “If it’s so damned urgent.”

Gavin hung up on him, which, yes, was a little rude, but his boi was hurt. And whether or not Gavin was going to own up to it, it was definitely his fault. It hadn’t been a creative or enjoyable bet at all, but it was an easy way to pass the time and earn some easy bucks. Gavin liked to talk big, but he really hadn’t thought Michael would actually do it.

When he turned back around, Ryan and Michael were arguing in low, heated tones. Michael was inching his chair away from the blond’s outstretched hands.

“It’ll be easier if we take the shoe off now, before it starts to swell,” Ryan said, raising his eyebrows. “Unless you want to cut those sneakers off later?”

Michael bit his lip, groaning in annoyance but allowing Ryan to lean forward and carefully grip Michael above the ankle. A few sharp hisses escaped him while Ryan worked off the shoe painstakingly slow. When it was finally free, Michael practically ripped his leg away from Ryan’s loose grasp.

“I have to take the sock off –”

“The sock is stretchy and will come off,” Michael countered, feeling cold all over as the sweat from the earlier thrill began to cool on his skin. He was aching for a painkiller – or twenty. “Plus, it’s a sock. Between the six of us, we have thousands. If this one has to be cut off, so be it.”

Ryan shrugged in agreement, but didn’t move from his kneeling position in front of Michael’s chair. “Can I see it?”

Michael stared at him suspiciously, foot still suspended out of reach.

“I’m not going to take your stupid sock, I just want to look at it,” Ryan said in exasperation. Michael sighed and gave in, knowing that Ryan was going to get his way regardless of what he said.

With naturally cold fingers, Ryan handled his ankle in a manner that was misleadingly professional. If he didn’t know any better, Michael would have assumed Ryan was an expert in the medical field. He poked and prodded, squeezing around his stupid, swelling lower leg until he hit a point that sent a lace of pain up the redhead’s spine.

“That hurt?” Ryan said in response to his flinch.

“What do you fucking think? I already told you that I sprained it,” Michael said in a tight voice. “I knew that. I could already feel the pain. I didn’t need you groping around to tell me that.”

Ryan didn’t seem fazed by his waspish reply, simply letting Michael’s leg relax back to hovering an inch off the ground. Michael was propped awkwardly up in his chair to take any pressure off his foot, but there was still a persistent, dull throb.

The door opened quietly and Jack walked in, a rather annoyed expression on his face. There was a crinkled back of Free Birds takeout in his fist. “I’d only been there four minutes,” Jack said snippily when Gavin rolled his eyes and muttered something nasty.

“Thank you for hurrying, Jack,” Ryan said kindly, taking the bag and putting it on Jack’s desk. He opened his mouth with the intent to say something blunt, like ‘Michael needs to go to the walk-in clinic to get his foot x-rayed’ but he immediately rethought and glanced at Michael. He was looking a little pale and not in the mood to be thrown under the bus.

“Well, where are we going?” Jack said impatiently, motioning to the door.

“What, is your lunch date waiting?” Gavin said.

“I’d like to get back to my lunch break, yeah,” Jack answered. “I spent the rest of the day trapped in this closet with you five, and then trapped in Geoff’s house with you five. This is my well-deserved time off.”

“It’s a relationship, not a job,” Ryan said, but it was weak. It was met with three very haughty stares.

“Anyway,” Gavin said, looking back to Jack. “If it’s not too much trouble for your stomach to go without eating for ten minutes, can you drive us to the walk-in clinic?”

Jack’s irritation melted, eyes widening as the frown entrapping his mouth untwisted. “The clinic? For wha–” His gaze landed on Michael, who’d been suspiciously quiet since his arrival. The concern faded somewhat when he saw it was Michael. “What happened?”

“Don’t look so worried,” Michael said defensively. His eyes cut to Gavin. “Uh – fucked up my ankle. It’s just a sprain, but Rye-bread wants to get an x-ray. Because he likes to waste money.”

“Gentle reminder that between the six of us, we spent nearly ten grand per month on video games,” Ryan muttered, though Michael had no idea if that was actually true.

“Those are job expenses,” Gavin pointed out. “This is money out of our own pocket… not that I’m opposed to going. I’ll be waiting in the car while you get a receipt for ice and rest.”

“You’re awful smug for someone who basically caused this,” Michael said darkly, glowering at Gavin.

Gavin scoffed and began gathering air for a rebuttal, but Jack cut him off. “Let’s go if we’re going. I want to beat rush hour. Do you need help?” He aimed his last question at Michael.

“I don’t need to be carried, if that’s what you’re asking,” Michael said with a laugh. He managed to struggle out of the chair and lean heavily on Ryan’s shoulder while standing. “Some help, though, yeah.”

 Ryan weaved a hand around and this time with Jack – who was a much better helper than Gavin – helped Michael out of the building and to the car. With Geoff not there to drive, Jack took the driver side, Ryan the passenger seat, and Gavin and Michael took the second row.

On the way to the clinic, Gavin pulled up the video of Michael jumping, and Michael leaned in close to watch it with him. They were both grinning.

\---

“I totally told you.”

“I never said I disagreed, and besides they said a sprain can be worse than a break. It’s better to play it safe than sorry.”

“That would have been better said _before_ I jumped,” Michael said airily, still smiling at the news that his ankle was indeed just sprained. It was now wrapped snugly with Ace bandages and on ice, and he’d been given some low grade painkillers to take the edge off. Michael felt infinitely more relaxed. Plus, he was given crutches, which he could smack at people with. Already Gavin had gleefully stolen them twice and a crutch sword fight had been initiated.

Ryan didn’t reply, a crease between his eyebrows appearing. Michael slowly lowered the crutch from where it’d been crossed against Gavin’s.

“Just kidding, Rye-bread. I would have jumped anyway,” Michael continued glibly, but there was a hint of sincerity in his tone. He could already see the symptoms of growing regret in the blond’s blue eyes, but if anyone was to blame, it was Gavin and himself.

“Like that makes me feel any better,” Ryan scoffed, pursing his lips. He gestured to the door. “C’mon, I hate this place. Last time I was here, I caught the flu. And I rarely get sick.”

Michael, who felt no urge to get sick and got sick pretty much every month anyway, agreed heartily and stood, using his one crutch to balance on while Gavin swung the other one around wildly.

“You guys ready?” Jack asked, poking his head in. “I signed us out.”

“Mm,” Michael hummed and began limping to the door.

Jack looked at Gavin with an expression of disbelief. “Give him back his fucking crutch, jackass. First you persuade him into nearly breaking an ankle and then you take his crutch away.”

Gavin snorted, handing Michael the other crutch. “He didn’t need persuading, and it wasn’t my fault. Well, not completely. Maybe a third.”

“And it was two thirds mine?” Michael  

“You’re the one who bloody jumped!”

“You paid me to do it!” Michael said, laughing. “Speaking of – I definitely expect to receive that cash, Gav-o. Don’t think that this negates anything.”

Gavin’s lower lip pushed out in a way that said he’d been expecting Michael to say that but had hoped he wouldn’t. He didn’t reply, sullenly following after the three as they walked towards the exit. The ER room wasn’t very crowded, but he made it a point to look straight ahead and avoid the other patients.

As they were walking – or limping – out, a familiar car pulled into the parking lot. Even in Michael’s faintly glazed state, brought on from both the drugs in his system and the looming exhaustion, he stopped dead in fear. Gavin, whose nose was in his phone, ran into him.

Geoff and Ray, Michael’s worst fucking nightmares, exited the car. Both were wearing awfully calm masks as they walked together up the sidewalk. The men they were heading for seemed frozen on the spot, except for Jack. Fucking Jack.

Geoff weaved through Jack and Ryan to lay a heavy hand on Michael’s shoulder, pulling him a bit closer as you would greeting an old friend. It wasn’t quite a hug, but it relieved Michael to know he wasn’t going to be immediately chewed out for jumping off a damn building.

But then Ray was marching up and raising a hand and –

_Smack!_

The skin of his cheek tingled and burned, just enough to be painful. Stunned, Michael rocked back on his crutches, leaning on the side to raise a hand to the cheek in wide-eyed surprise. He could only stare at Ray in shock, his mouth hanging open.

“You deserved that,” Ray said in lieu of explanation. He didn’t even seem _mad_ now, just satisfied that his message had been sent. “Gavin sent me the video. Jumping off a _building_ , Michael? Really? For what, a hundred bucks?”

“First of all, no, I settled for five hundred. I’m not a whore, Ray,” Michael blurted, rubbing his cheek with a slightly wounded pride. “Second, he was filming for an RT Life. Not for scaring you.”

“He asked what happened,” Gavin defended. “Jack called him but didn’t say much, so Ray texted me.”

“I didn’t say much because I didn’t want them to freak out that we were at the hospital for a sprained ankle,” Jack said easily. Michael couldn’t blame him for being able to shrug it off so simply. He, after all, had the cleanest hands out of the four.

“I’m glad you went,” Geoff said honestly. “Even if it was nothing. I had a buddy in the army fuck up his ankle for life when he didn’t get ‘just a sprain’ checked out.”

Ryan nodded, looking relieved that Geoff agreed. Even with insurance, it had cost a hefty dollar, which had come out of the _shared_ back account.

“Are we not going to talk about how Ray just _slapped_ me?” Michael yelped, a hand still cradling his cheek.

“Well, I would’ve been out of line if I punched you,” Ray said, spreading his palms. “But since you seem to think you’re invincible, I figured some guaranteed pain would knock some sense into you.”

“I would have fucking preferred the punch,” Michael muttered. “Why the hell are you so angry?”

Ray gaped at him. “I’m angry because I’m in a relationship with two men whose brains seemed to have gotten hitched and left the building.”

“You were all for me practically being smothered to death by that energy powder,” Michael said sullenly, but the heat in his tone was dampened significantly by Ray’s anger.

“A mouthful of radioactive spit isn’t quite the same as leaping to your death,” Ray said, irritation just barely concealed in his voice. At the look Michael gave him, he sighed and said, “Okay, maybe not death. But a two story building can seriously fuck you up.”

“And he did it for cheap, too,” Ryan added.

“How much?” Ray asked.

“Five hundred isn’t cheap,” Michael said, his underarms beginning to ache from supporting himself with the crutches. “And it wasn’t two stories.”

Ray looked divided. “How much were you paid for the BBQ sauce again?”

“The money doesn’t matter,” Geoff interrupted.

“He’s right,” Gavin said in a happy voice. “It’s the footage that’s important.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Geoff said quickly. “He doesn’t exist to cure your boredom, Gavin. Goddammit. Your safety is the most important, not the _footage,_ not the _money,_ and not each others fucking entertainment.”

Michael averted his eyes and nodded his understanding. He couldn’t say he disagreed. If it were, for example, _Ray_ , doing something reckless and dangerous – with the near promise of injury – then Michael wouldn’t be very happy, either. It was scary enough for Geoff to send two of his idiots out to Immersion every week.

Looking around, it was clear that the words had gotten to everyone. Geoff, who was satisfied and very possibly enjoying the cowed look on everyone’s face, clapped his hands together and gestured to the car.

“Ride with me, Ryan, and Jack can drive Michael and the rest home in the van.”

\---

Ryan pulled the passenger door shut with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Watching Michael gimp across the parking lot to the van left him with an odd urge to simultaneously laugh and sink his head in guilt.

Starting the car, Geoff was quick to pull out and lead the way home.

He spoke into the windshield. “Thanks for taking him to the hospital, Ryan. Saved me an unneeded argument.”

“’Course, Geoff,” Ryan nodded.

“So, I’m a little confused,” Geoff said casually, and Ryan wished he could just sink through the bottom of the car. “Were you overseeing the bet?”

“I guess you could say that,” Ryan said shiftily.

When Geoff spoke, it was eerily calm. Ryan felt as if he should be ducking. “And you watched, right? Watched him jump.”

“I didn’t think he’d actually get hurt,” Ryan told him, grimacing. “Michael’s just sorta indestructible.”

At his words, Geoff’s gradually growing anger was washed out from under him.

“Listen, Ryan. As… as your guys’ boss,” Geoff started, blowing out a large sigh and unclenching his hands on the steering wheel. “I have a responsibility to look after you. When you’re at the office, when you’re employed and working, your wellbeing is in my hands. Out of the six of us, I have the job that requires me trying to return you back home all in one piece.”

Ryan frowned at the sudden emotion beginning to flood Geoff’s voice. He reached forward a hand and palmed over the back of Geoff’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. The tattooed man looked grateful.

“That job is fucking terrifying,” Geoff confessed, rubbing his eyes with the air of an old, old man. “And it’s only made worse by me moonlighting as the boyfriend, too. I was worried, at first, that that would cause a conflict between home life and work life, but our jobs are so relaxed that it didn’t end up mattering.”

“Our ‘work mode’ isn’t quite the average,” Ryan smiled.

“Not really,” Geoff agreed. “But I still have that duty, and it’s turned into a twenty-four hour fucking job. You and Jack help, of course, because we’re the Gents. We look out for the morons. And theoretically Michael should be looking out for the Lads because he’s the oldest, but when shit like this happens, I forget that he and the other Lads are not as resilient as we treat them.”

Ryan swallowed harshly. “Life-threatening situations don’t usually happen,” he pointed out as reassuringly as he could, but he and Geoff knew that they weren’t talking just about today’s adventure.

“Ryan.” Geoff stated, looking him in the eye. “Michael jumped off a building today.”

“Yeah, that was pretty stupid,” Ryan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And it was partly my fault. But Geoff – they aren’t kids. At twenty and over, they’re able to take care of themselves.”

“In the barest sense of the word ‘care’, maybe,” Geoff allowed reluctantly. “I mean… they’re still alive. But Ryan, you’re not getting it. I am in _charge_ of you five, nine including the Thugs. If you get hurt at work, or if your safety is threatened, legally speaking, it’s on my hands. And at home – if you get hurt or your safety is threatened, it’s _morally_ on my hands. I just – I can’t win.”

Ryan frowned. “Geoff, we aren’t pets. You’re not playing a game to keep us alive. We’re adults. In a healthy, committed relationship with _you_ , who happens to be our boss,” he shrugged. “An accident happened today. No one was seriously injured, and we – Gavin, Michael, and myself – take the blame for it. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”

Geoff shook his head, furrowing his brow. “It’s not nothing, Ryan, because I get the same feeling sometimes; that Michael’s indestructible, before it comes back to me. And – I look at Gav and think he doesn’t care. I think he’s mentally unbreakable. I think any insults I throw at him will bounce off, and he’ll still be grinning. But that’s not true – they bounce, but they dent him a little sometimes if I say something too mean about something too sensitive. We have thick skin, but it’s not armor.”

Ryan couldn’t deny that he, too, felt Gavin was somewhat immune to mere words. Looking down at his feet, Ryan waited, as the older man was clearly not finished.

“And I look at Michael and I forget that he’s just as soft and squishy as I am. His bones will break just like mine. Fuck, he gets sick every damn month, and practically hacks out a lung right there in the office. He likes to pretend he’s invulnerable to shit around him, and he may have some of us fooled, but Ryan, I walk into that damn building knowing that sometimes people get hurt, and sometimes it’s one of us.”

Geoff swallowed. “I know it’s a little irrational. You’re all adults… but that doesn’t mean a damn thing, really. We work in an unorthodox work environment, where just a few months ago Michael was crashing a kart into dozens of bananas with the intent to spin out. I know that none of us are going to _die_ or anything, but I also know that sometimes accidents happen. And it scares the living hell out of me.”

There was a long silence after Geoff poured his heart out. Nothing Ryan could think to say was good enough to be thrown out there, so he watched out the window and sighed. Ryan had never felt what Geoff was experiencing. Maybe he, too, thought himself invincible, though not in such literal terms.

“I don’t really have the right to be throwing stones,” Geoff abruptly said, scratching the back of his head. “Our job holds a certain level of ‘ _assumption of risk’_ or whatever they call it. Bumps and bruises, usually, but sometimes a black eye or a bloody nose. It’s not often a trip to the hospital.”

“Burnie keeps us under control most of the time,” Ryan laughed. “The last blood shed was two months ago, when Miles accidentally elbowed Kerry in the nose during a RWBY Conference.”

Geoff laughed at the memory of Kerry with a large bandage over his nose, obscuring almost half of his vision. He sighed, wringing his hands on the wheel. “Guess we have to reset the timer now.”

\---

Turns out that having a gimp leg at the AH office wasn’t as fun as it looked.

He was luckier than Caleb had been, because since he was _Michael_ , he was saved a lot of mocking from Geoff and Ray. Picking on Caleb was a fun activity everyone could enjoy. Picking on Michael was harder, so he was mostly left alone.

With the beautiful exception of Gavin Free.

For the most part, he just used verbal jabs. Michael suspected he felt at least slightly guilty for being the cause of Michael struggling to get up and down stairs. Luckily, there were no stairs in and out of the AH office.

The porch stairs of their house, however, were an issue every morning.

Michael slid into the car on the fifth day with a suspicious glance backwards at Gavin. Any other time and the Brit would have taken the opportunity to steal Michael’s second row seat. The last row was hot as hell since the A/C wasn’t working on one side, something Gavin often bitched about loudly.

But Michael’s seat was left waiting for him when he finally hobbled to the car. The porch steps were his biggest foe. Once he managed to climb into the car, he was huffing with exertion.

The first day he’d been made fun of, but five days later it was old news. His crutches fell sideways into Ryan’s lap, the blond glancing at them before going back to his phone. Geoff turned up the volume on whatever song was playing on the radio – something Michael hadn’t heard before – and pulled out of the driveway.

“How much longer do you need those?” Geoff asked, meeting Michael’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I go back in on Friday for another X-ray,” Michael said, adjusting so his foot was resting in the isle between seats. A rattle in his pocket reminded him that he hadn’t taken his morning painkiller. “And then I hopefully don’t need the crutches anymore.”

Geoff watched him swallow the pill between traffic lights. “Still hurts?” he asked lightly.

“Only in the mornings,” Michael said truthfully, grimacing. His stomach was beginning to turn with each lurch of the car.

Geoff hummed, eyes falling back onto the road as music once more filled the car. A crutch disappeared from the middle of the isle without Michael noticing. He was too busy curling in on himself in a weak attempt to curb the rising nausea.

Something tapped the back of his seat. Michael glanced over the shoulder of the seat, catching the flash of silver of his crutch as Gavin hurried to hide it. His eyes narrowed. “ _Gavin_. You fuck, give me that back. Last time I checked, you weren’t the one who needed it.”

Gavin grinned at him, a little lackluster than usual but irritating nonetheless. He waved it tauntingly, nearly clocking Ray in the process. “Oop – sorry, Ray. Last time I checked, Michael, you don’t need to walk while sitting down.”

“I know you’re not going to give it back when we get to the office,” Michael growled, voice strained. His stomach didn’t appreciate him twisting around in his seat and his head was starting to feel a little dizzy. “Just like the other four fucking times you’ve ‘forgotten’ to hand it back. I’ve fucking had to adapt to using one crutch because you keep taking the other one!”

“I’ve helped you evolve, Michael!” Gavin crowed, looking all too proud of himself. “You should thank me.”

Michael closed his eyes to suppress the violent urges. That and the vomit.

Ray, after throwing a cautious look to Gavin, said. “Don’t you think since it’s your fault that he’s a fucking cripple now that you should at least be nice to him?”

“No?” Gavin said, like it was the dumbest question he’s heard. He waved the crutch around and rapt Michael harshly on the knuckles.

Retracting his hand quickly, Michael shook his head in annoyance and turned back around. He frowned at the familiar tight feeling in his chest, the hitching sensation that came just before puking. He paled.

“Are we almost there?” Michael asked, pained.

“Yeah,” Geoff said. “Why?”

Michael glanced down at the pill bottle still clutched in his left hand. “I feel sick.”

Everyone in the car stiffened. Geoff’s piercing eyes stared at him again in the rearview mirror, this time much wider.

“Now? Like – now? Puking now?” he asked in growing panic.

Michael swallowed thickly, stomach rolling. He groaned and leaned forward, trying to ignore how Ryan practically plastered himself against the window. “Soon – soon.” He swallowed again. “If we’re not there in thirty seconds or less, you may want to pull over.”

Geoff didn’t hesitate to flick on his turning signal and slowly roll the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road. A loud rush starting up in his ears, Michael clumsily unlocked the door and stumbled from the car. He was barely out of the car before vomit was spilling from his mouth and dripping in the webs of his fingers.

His knees hit grass, injured leg unable to support his weight. They were pulled over on the side of a single lane road with grass fields on each side. Michael was puking into that same grass, stomach completely emptying its contents onto the ground below.

Once he was finished, he sat back on his ass, wiping his mouth on the offered napkin Jack was handing him. Gavin was gagging from behind them, sitting in the running car and watching. Michael felt like punching him, but he knew it wasn’t completely Gavin’s fault. He was just as much of a moron, if not worse.

“Thanks, Jack,” Michael said gruffly, using the man’s broad shoulder to climb to his feet. Jack gripped his elbow to steady him.

Gavin was scrambling to go back to his own seat, saying something along the lines of ‘ _He’s not coming back in here, is he?!’_ but immediately quieting once Michael slumped into in car. Ryan reached over the gap and patted Michael’s knee for comfort.

“Feeling okay?” Jack asked, still lingering in the door on Michael’s side. “Do you want to go back home?”

“At least to brush your teeth?” Gavin said behind them.

“No, I’m fine,” Michael said quickly. “There’s toothpaste in Miles’ office.”

“Are you sick? What’s wrong with you?” Geoff asked as Jack got back in the passenger seat. He pulled away from the curb and back onto the road.

“I forgot that painkillers come with a nausea warning,” Michael said pitifully, wrapping his arms around his stomach. The acidic taste of bile was on the back of his tongue, sharpening every word. His gut clenched as Geoff accelerated.

Gavin snickered, but it was subdued. He himself sounded as if he was trying not to gag. “That was bloody disgusting.”

“You’ve seen me do worse,” Michael pointed out dully.

“Like jump off a building?” Geoff said dryly, a peculiar tightness clinging to each word. Michael could see his hands visibly tighten on the steering wheel.

“What’s your problem?” Michael blurted, buckling his seatbelt.

Ryan glanced between them. “Well, that _was_ worse,” he said carefully. Michael suddenly got the feeling he was stepping on eggshells.

Not even walking. Just stepping and crushing.

“I just don’t know why Gavin is insisting on releasing that video as an RT Life,” Geoff shrugged, and nothing about it was casual.

“What was the point of it, then?” Gavin snapped. It was definitely an argument the two had had before. “If we’re not releasing the video, then it was a damn waste from the start.”

“Funny that you call it a waste,” Geoff practically hissed. “That video is not coming out. It’s going to encourage more of your stupid-ass behavior.”

“Plus we have a younger audience,” Ryan said reasonably. “Do you really want three hundred videos of twelve year olds jumping off buildings?”

“Like YouTube isn’t filled with millions of those already,” Gavin waved off easily.

Geoff shook his head. “That’s not the point. Saying that it was a waste is complete bullshit, Gavin. Getting a video out of it doesn’t mean that it was worth it.”

Gavin’s stony silence very clearly said he disagreed, and Geoff wasn’t having his shit today.

“Gavin,” he said in his difficult voice. “Video isn’t coming out.”

Gavin grumbled something. But then, louder: “What about the other meaningless crap you said?”

“The part about censoring bets?” Geoff said incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Gavin – it was a fucking _building_. Clearly your judgment is similar to that of a four year old.”

Gavin ignored the insult. “I can admit that we were lacking in the research,” he said. “I didn’t realize – that’s not important, the important bit is how Michael will do absolutely anything for money, the slut.”

“It’s not even the money, it’s the satisfaction of beating you,” Michael confessed, head pressed against the back of Jack’s seat.

“Neither of those are good motive for risking your necks for a video that would probably only get 500,000 views.”

Gavin scoffed. “Want to bet on that number? I’d go with three million at the least.”

“No,” was all Geoff said to that. They pulled up to the office gate a moment later.

Michael grimaced. He honestly didn’t care if the video went up or not. Geoff was oddly touchy about the subject, however. If Michael didn’t know him better, he’d say that Geoff was feeling guilty for something he had no control over.

Oh, wait, Michael knew Geoff extremely well and that was exactly what was happening.

Once they got out of the car, Michael fell into step next to Geoff, which was saying something since he only had once crutch. “I don’t really care, you know,” he said quietly.

Geoff blew out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, I know, and that’s sorta the fucking problem.”

Michael’s brow creased, but before he could say ‘what’s up’, Geoff was already speaking.

“I’m so fucking fed up with these dumbass bets and challenges. The ghost pepper had you cranky for days. Saltine challenge. Barbeque sauce. Ketchup. The spoon of cinnamon…” Geoff trailed off, shuddering. “Then the energy powder – coughing up green goo for _weeks_! Flipping over the Mario Kart for a ‘good shot’. Burns all over your back and legs from the split-screen Immersion.” Geoff broke off, seemingly out of breath. Michael was sure the others could hear their conversation, but as they walked through the lot, the others kept their eyes forward. “It just never stops. Work bleeds into home life, and Gavin’s still videotaping everything.”

“You do that, too,” Michael muttered, unable to help himself.

“What, the Happy Hours?” Geoff said. “That’s not the same as jumping off a goddamn building, Michael.”

“No, but taping knives to Roombas is dangerous, too,” Michael pointed out.

“I’m there to supervise,” Geoff growled under his breath. “No one ever gets… seriously… injured. I may smear lotion in Gavin’s eye during videos, but I’m not paying him to break bones. There’s a difference and you guys crossed a line.”

Michael blew a sigh out of his nose. Geoff… wasn’t wrong. Their safety always came first, no matter what, and making a bet with the pure intention of injury was incredibly dumb in hindsight. Neither the money nor video was worth the medical costs and continuing pain.

“I’m just saying that you guys should be more careful,” Geoff said with an odd, conflicting tint of disdain. He was trying to be diplomatic. Michael’s lips twitched. “I want to be able to go to lunch without worrying about coming back to see you splattered all over the pavement.”

Michael couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about that, to be honest,” he said. “I don’t think I could survive falling five feet.”

Geoff’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “No more buildings, then?”

“No,” Michael said firmly. “Definitely not.”

Geoff deflated like a balloon, the crow’s feet around his eyes melting. “Or anything of that scale, right? Promise me.” Geoff said quickly. After a thought, he added, “Please.”

Michael rolled his eyes again, smiling. “’Course, Geoff. Once my fucking ankle heals, I’ll be a little more careful. I feel sick and all I taste is vomit right now. It sucks having to limp half-speed after everyone. That and Gavin keeps fucking taking the other crutch.”

They both looked towards Gavin, who was very obviously listening in, but also tapping along the street with the rubber sole of the lost crutch.

Geoff laughed and clapped Michael gently on the back, leaving his hand to rest on the nape of Michael’s neck. “Love you, Michael,” Geoff said, and the sincerity made Michael’s heart skip a beat.

“I won’t do anything stupid, Geoff,” Michael promised. “I love you, too.”


End file.
